


Bitter Visions

by Wayward_Panda



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Fake Chop, M/M, cow chop secret santa, meant to post this in january and now its june whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-05-07 11:15:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Panda/pseuds/Wayward_Panda
Summary: James and Brett are the ones to start Fake Chop. James and Brett are the ones who fight to make a name for themselves. James and Brett are the ones who cut their losses and bury their dead.A fresh start is what everyone needs. But what do you do when the dead don't seem to stay dead?





	1. Of Forgotten Keycards and Dead Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Was looking through my WIPs the other day and I completely forgot to post this fic. It was written last year for the Cow Chop Secret Santa, and is currently the longest completed work I've got. I've edited it quite a bit, so hopefully it actually makes sense now.

It's cold.

The fact's not unexpected, it's the middle of winter, after all, but James hates it regardless. The wind blows through his coat as if it wasn't even there, and James bitterly wonders what the point of winter is. All it does is makes his joints ache more. And yes, he's aware that makes him sound like an old man, but that shouldn't matter because he's fucking freezing his ass off.

He's outside the warehouse, because he left his keycard inside like an idiot. Brett should've opened the door like, 15 minutes ago, but he's probably enjoying seeing James suffer, the sick bastard. 

Brett opens the door a second later, looking very inconvenienced. "How did you forget your keycard?" He asks, holding the door open for him like a gentleman. As if that could make up for the fact he left James to practically freeze to death. 

"I'm not used to having it!" James makes an excuse, shivering. "Took you long enough," he switches gears, eagerly stepping into the warmth the warehouse provided.

Brett raises an eyebrow at him. "You've been outside for, at most, two minutes," he explains rationally. "Shouldn't you be more used to the cold, anyway?"

James pulls out his phone, looking for a text he's never received. "I hated it there too," he mutters, and he can feel Brett's eyes boring into him. James wants to tell him to fuck off, to stop treating him like a goddamn toddler, but he inwardly concedes that he is acting a bit childish. And Brett doesn't really deserve his little temper tantrum, especially not after all he's done for him. 

"Anyway," he continues on, putting his phone away, "I got some info."

Brett straightens up, as if reminded that James had been off on a job. He gestures for James to follow him, and the two head into Brett's office. It's dimly lit, not even fully furnished, but Brett's already got a little succulent at the edge of his desk. James scoffs at it before plopping into one of the few chairs. Brett does the same on the other side of his desk, except he goes the extra mile of also typing something into his computer. What he's typing, James has no idea, but he assumes it's absolutely vital for their blooming little crew, so he doesn't bother him.

After a second of nothing but typing noises, Brett looks up and nods. James clears his throat before beginning.

"So like, the Vespucci's got a lot of little hideouts everywhere. They're like ants. From what my guy said, they don't have a single main hideout. But they do have major storerooms they smuggle stuff from."

Brett nods. This is the stuff they already know, for the most part. The Vespucci had been a thorn in their sides the second Fake Chop had moved to California. Taking them out would not only free them from their constant annoyance, but also help them garner a better reputation in the city. Right now, they were a no name group. And while they had pulled of some pretty substantial heists, they were nowhere near the big leagues yet. This stake they were taking could also bring about some more powerful allies. Brett already had some really strong connections through Cockbite, but they couldn't always rely on them.

The problem was that the Vespucci were hard to fully kill off. They always had some other hideout, some other base that they bided their time in before stepping back into the limelight. And it was very annoying to deal with. The Vespucci themselves were actually spread across the whole country, but James was really only concerned with the branch that had started feeling its way into California. So, the plan was to cut off most of their supplies before dealing with them personally. That way, even if they had a secret base somewhere, they wouldn't have enough ammunition to get back in the game. 

"Apparently…" James continues, leaning forward in his seat, "…they've got one of these major storerooms on the pier. I went and checked it out earlier, and it seems pretty legit. Couldn't get too good of a look, but there's definitely some gang's storeroom there, at least."

"I'll have Lindsey and Joe look into it," Brett says, typing more things into his computer. It sounds very official. "Any more bases you found out about?"

James nods. "One on the other side of town, by the bank." He neglects to tell Brett which one, but he seems to understand. "Another one by that bar you go to sometimes. And one big one a couple miles outside the town."

Brett whistles. "You got all of that?" He asks, clearly impressed. 

James shrugs. "What can I say? I'm the best." Brett huffs out a laugh, muttering his agreement and James grins along with him. He likes his smile. He his praise. Goddamn, he likes Brett. But he only revels in these feelings for a moment before continuing, a little more humbly, "I can't be too sure about those last ones though. I didn't check those out."

"It's a good start though," Brett insists. His fingers move fast on the keyboard. James idly wonders what else Brett's fingers can do. Brett, unfortunately, catches sight of him staring and raises an eyebrow. James makes no apologies. 

"Anyway," Brett says, not commenting on James's antics, "Like I was saying, these are good leads. Joe and Lindsey can hopefully find some good info on this stuff. This would be a hell of a lot easier if we had a hacker, but what can you do?" 

James makes a noise of agreement. Fake Chop's small, much smaller than the crews James and Brett used to run with. And that means a lot of the normal positions are unfortunately empty. Lindsey's incredible informant abilities and Joe's general unassuming nature made sure they had a generally steady stream of information, though James wished that current was a bit stronger. Though, to be fair, neither he nor Brett had ever started a crew from the ground up before. They were incredibly fortunate to have survived for so long, especially in such a competitive area. 

And though James would be counting his blessings, he'd be damned if he was going to let the crew remain in this pitiful state. He wanted more. Getting rid of the Vespucci would provide them with power, stability and a fearsome reputation. Then they could afford the best of the best. 

"Oh! Forgot to mention," Brett's voice breaks James out of his thoughts. James blinks and tries to focus. "Lindsey's got some interesting info. Might be useful."

"What is it?"

"Word on the street is that we're not the only people going after the Vespucci. Apparently there's another gang that hijacked their heist. They got of the Vespucci guys arrested and took all of their loot."

"Huh," James hums thoughtfully. An ally certainly wouldn't hurt. "Who are they?"

Brett shrugs. "Nobody knows. They're new, at least to this area. But they've never really left any sort of trail."

James inwardly pouts over the fact that the mysterious new crew was able to get a good hacker under their wing while he couldn't. "So it'll be hard for us to contact them," James says out loud, thinking reasonably. "We can't afford putting all of our energy into tracking them down, especially if they don't end up allying with us."

Brett hums. "So, what do you want us to do then?"

James sighs, raking a hand through his hair. " I mean, I don't know dude. Just… keep on doing what we have been doing, I guess. If we see an opportunity, then let's go for it. But don't go out of the way. We gotta focus on the Vespucci shit."

Brett nods. "Solid plan. I'll pass that onto Lindsey then." He finishes typing, and faces James head on. "How are you doing?" He asks, softening his tone. It's a shift from Boss-man Brett to normal, concerned-for-his-boyfriend Brett. 

James groans, leaning his head back. He's… feeling a lot of things now. On one hand, he's excited. This crew's lasted longer than he expected, and they're a better position than he could've realistically dreamed of. He was free of the chains of the last group he was trapped in. He could finally pursue his own dreams, with his own crew, and didn't have to worry about what other people thought.

But, on the other hand, it's also so, so stressful. And sure, he's got Brett forever and always on his side, but a part of him felt like a burden. When this was all starting off, he had essentially dumped all of his problems on Brett. And Brett, the kind soul he was, listened patiently and helped him sort out all of this problems. He never would have made it if he had been on his own. 

"I'm… okay, I guess," he finally settles on, because that's true, at least. Things weren't terribly great, but they could be a whole lot worse. "Um, thanks though. For being here." He wishes he were more eloquent with his words; speaking's never been his strong suit. 

But Brett seems to understand, and gives a small smile. "Yeah, of course dude. I wouldn't leave you," he says, strangely vulnerable with his feelings. James relishes the comfort the words bring, because he knows Brett means it. Brett got him out, and he's made it clear that he's in it for the long run. 

"How are you handling the fallout?" Brett asks next, and instantly the fuzzy feelings disappear because what the fuck Brett, he definitely didn't want to think about the old crew for any sort of extended period of time. But Brett's also not breaking his gaze, so James knows he's definitely not getting out of this one. 

"I'm…" he begins, then stops. God, how did he feel about all of this? All he wanted was to pour himself into his work and forget about the memories. Because there were a lot of bad things, but… there were good times, too. A part of him wishes that it was all bad, so that way he didn't have to mourn the loss. But… there were good people in that crew. Honest people, people who had some moral code and the ambition and drive needed to survive in the business. And James had left them. 

"I'm… getting through this," he finally settles on, trying to convince himself as well as Brett. He glances up to see his expression and is met with eyes of understanding. Brett also had to sacrifice stuff in order to make this work. But Brett's also somehow managed to find a way to work out his feelings, probably just due to experience. What an old man. 

"That's all I'm asking for," Brett says, and they fall into an amicable silence. James thinks on how he and Brett got together. He had always kind of admired him, he'd been in the whole crew business for a long time, ran with the best of them, and was willing to teach James how to get better, instead of stifling his creativity. They had hooked up a couple of times, casual things that James was still surprised Brett said yes to, but things hadn't really been serious until James started opening up a little more. (And for another reason, his mind helpfully supplies, but James shuts the train of thought down before it can even begin.) Brett had responded with nothing but understanding and his take on the situation, but made no attempt to try and lecture James on his actions and whatnot. Things just kept on going from there, before they took their biggest step by leaving. 

Now, relationship wise, things were going pretty smoothly. Sure, they still had problems- the both of them were still stressed trying to make this crew work, while James felt guilty for relying on Brett so much. But he was confident that things would work out this time. This wasn't like other relationships, where things had often been left unsaid. No, James was actually being a goddamn adult for once, because he wanted to make this work. He'd be damned if he let this slip through his fingertips. 

Brett groans loudly as he stretches backwards, rising out of his seat. "Whew, I'm starving. Do you want to get something to eat with me?" He asks, making his way to the other side of the desk, where James is comfortably slouching in his seat. 

James exhales loudly, tossed between eating with his boyfriend or staying in this comfy position until the end of time. "I guess," he decides on, getting up himself. "Long as your paying for it."

"As you wish," Brett says mockingly. As he puts on his jacket, his expression changes and his tone becomes more serious. "Hey, I wasn't joking around before," he says, making eye contact with James. "I'm not leaving you. You ever have something on your mind, just tell me, alright? Bottling things up isn't good."

"I'm trying not to," he insists.

"I know," Brett's tone is conciliatory, "But still. We're in this together, alright?"

James nods dutifully, resisting the sudden urge to make a High School Musical reference in the middle of a serious moment. Brett wouldn't understand it, anyway. He was too much of an old man. 

Brett accepts his nod and heads out the door, James following on his heels. "We can choose something on the way," he says as James zips up his jacket. It's only when both of them are in Brett's car, pulling out of the parking lot does Brett ask, "You made sure to bring your keycard this time, right?"

James groans.

\---

A couple days later, Joe, Brett and James park behind a seemingly abandoned warehouse by the pier. Lindsay was able to verify that the information James got was indeed accurate, though there were probably more warehouses than what James's informant mentioned. There's been no sign of that other crew that was fighting the Vespucci, and James can't help but feel a little disappointed. Teaming up with them could've been such a big help, especially in a pure firefight like this one. 

The plan was simply to get in, destroy the majority of the drugs and other supplies, and get out. This was a major storehouse for them, so any firepower would be helpful. Unfortunately, the Vespucci had their fingers in a lot of spies, and would notice if an up-and-coming group like Fake Chop was hiring a lot of mercenaries. So they had to rely on their own skill for this one. 

"You know where to meet us, right?" Brett's voice breaks him out of his thoughts. He's loading up a gun, double checking to ensure he's got enough ammo. James follows suit, though he knows he's brought a decent amount. He's also got a few grenades and C4, intent on destroying as much as possible. They'd really only get one big ambush like this, so it was important to be successful. After this one, the Vespucci would definitely up their security.

"Just on the uh… the other side of the building, right?" Joe's almost overconfident tone worries Brett, James knows, but James also knows Joe well enough to know he'd never mess up something so vital. He'd made a few blunders from time to time, but his loyalty more than definitely made up for it. And Joe's role this time was fairly simple. He was just the getaway driver.

"Yeah. Stay out of sight until then. I'll tell you when to pull up," Brett goes over this again, despite the fact that all of them know the plan by heart.

Joe doesn't get offended though. He never does. "And if you don't, Lindsey will," he states matter-of-factly. Lindsey, the only one with halfway decent hacking skills, would be watching the cams, feeding the rest of the crew information. That tidbit reminds James that he still needs to put his earpiece in, which he does immediately. 

Brett makes a face. "Yeah, but… just wait for my signal, okay? I don't want you to get confused with everyone talking."

Joe nods, just as a crackle goes through James's ear. "Hello, testing, is this working? Can you all hear me?" Lindsey's voice floats through him, faintly at first, but then annoying and loud.

"Yes! Jesus, we can hear you! You're so loud!"

"Oh, sorry," Lindsey apologizes, and the volume becomes more normal. "This better?"

James nods, then remembers that Lindsey can't currently see him while he's inside the goddamn car. "Yes, it's good now."

"All your shit set up, Lindsey?" Brett chimes in, professional as ever. 

"Yep! I can see all," she replies, and James can practically hear the smile in her voice. Lindsey's not new to this sort of thing, she's been in for just as long as Brett has. Her confidence settles a bit of James's nerves. This wasn't his first rodeo- it wasn't any of theirs, honestly- but he still wasn't too used to having all these lives in his hands. They had backup plans in the event of something going wrong, but that didn't mean he wanted to use them. 

"What about you, Jakob? You in position?" Brett asks. That's who James is most worried about. Jakob's not exactly new to the world of crime, but he's young, exceptionally young. Too young for James's liking. But he knows he couldn't ever stop Jakob from doing the things he did, because he was an adult, if only barely. So this was his way of making sure he stayed safe. Jakob's sniping skills were very good honestly, and only seemed to get better after every heist they did. 

"All set up. I'm ready when you guys are," Jakob answers, voice steady. 

Brett glances at James, giving him a once over to make sure he's ready. James gives him a nod, pulling his bandana over his mouth. Brett does the same, and exits the car.

"All right, let's do this boys and girls," Brett says cheerfully, voice slightly muffled by the cloth. "See you all on the other side."

The two of them make their way to the edge of the building, avoiding being noticed by anyone. That's actually fairly easy, there's not too many people on the pier at 4 am. Nobody except stoners, but they weren't really the type of people to make trouble anyway. James had wanted to make sure they struck at an odd time, a time when the night shift would be exhausted and a new shift wouldn't be there yet. 

"Alright, we're ready to enter. Lindsey, how's it looking in there?" Brett asks, voice coming off even. 

"Um…" Lindsey pauses a moment, checking the screens. "All clear, for the most part. Once you open the doors, you might have around… six dudes? coming your way." 

"Sounds good, keep us posted. You ready?" Brett asks from his side, finally addressing him. James nods, and that's all he gets before Brett rushes in. James is just a second behind him, focusing on his right. He hears a cry of pain above him, and feels safer knowing that Jakob's sniping is just as accurate as he remembers. 

Brett gets a guy directly in front of him, and James, seeing no one to the side, begins to shoot where Brett's also aiming at. There's three guys still up, but they all seem to be distracted. They go down pathetically easy, and Brett manages to snag some cover behind a crate. James follows behind, like clockwork, suppressing fire.

"Lindsey! How are we doing?" He cries over the sound over the gunfight.

"Really good, actually. It looks like most of the crew's actually heading to the other entrance. Let me see what's happening over there…"

"How's the storeroom looking?" James asks, finally seeking cover behind the crate to reload. The guy he was shooting at fucked off, running to where James assumed the other commotion was. 

"Looks… clear from your end. There's a lot of guys protecting the front entrances though. Whatever else is happening, it's making the Vespucci focus on that instead."

"Good. Let's just stick to the plan then." Regardless of whatever was happening, James didn't want to waste this opportunity. He was only going to pull out if the situation got anymore complicated. 

James peeks out of cover, and seeing no one, begins to advance. Brett does the same, hands steady and mind focused. He's not easily rattled, and though this is an odd situation, he doesn't seem to be too concerned. 

James pulls out his C4 just as Lindsey's interjects. "Oh shit, you guys, this isn't just an explosion or some shit, this is an actual crew. It could be the one that stole from the Vespucci!" She sounds eager, as if this is the most interesting thing that's happened this week. As if she's not in the middle of a pseudo-heist that she needs to act professionally in. 

"Well, we can't really talk to them right now," Brett looks a little irritated, and James can't tell if it's because of Lindsey's tone or the new complication. Knowing Brett, it's probably both. "Are they heading our way?"

"No," she responds immediately, "They've got too many guys to take care of. It looks like a pretty small crew actually. But your coast is clear. Are we still doing this?"

Brett glances at him. "That's up to James."

James mouth goes dry. He hates being the one to make decisions. But in this situation, he understands why Brett has him take control. This was James's plan, and this was honestly James's crew- it was up to James to make the major calls like this one.

And what a call. If they left now, they'd likely never get an easy ambush like this again. There was no guarantee that the other crew, whoever they were, would blow up their supplies. But they'd leave with their lives, and the ability to try again. Staying meant getting their objective done at a higher risk of death. 

"Let's keep on going," he decides, hoping he made the right decision. Lindsey makes a noise of acknowledgement while Brett nods at him, before turning to place one of the bombs. James races to the other side of the room to do the same.

The crates in the warehouse are practically stacked to the roof. And they're all metal too, to hopefully prevent the products inside from being damaged by a stray bullet or fire. But not even that would stand against the power of multiple bombs going off at once. 

There's a lot of shouting going on in the next room over, only being drowned out by the spray of gunshots piercing the air. James is very thankful he's not in the middle of it. He and Brett were good, but a whole room full of Vespucci would be a bit much, even for them. At this rate, they'd be in and out with no problem.

Later on in his life, James would look back on this and curse himself for even thinking such a thought. Because that's when things started to go wrong.

The first thing that happened was that Jakob's position got compromised. 

"Oh fuck," he cursed through the earpiece, right before a round of gunshots rang through. 

"Jakob, what's happening?" James tries to stay calm even though he's kind of panicking. This wasn't supposed to happen, nothing was supposed to happen to Jakob, he had made sure to put him behind the line of fire so nothing could happen to Jakob-

Jakob doesn't respond right away, much to James's fear, though he knows that repeating the question would cause Jakob to lose focus on whatever he was dealing with. 

Eventually, the bullets stop, and Jakob answers. "I'm fine, I think," he says, clearly out of breath, "Some guys came up here. I don't know how they found me, I didn't see anyone leave the building, I'm sorry, I fucked up-"

"Jakob," Brett steps in, trying the soothe the panic away, "Calm down. Let's just get you down, there's no use for you being up there if the Vespucci know where you are."

"I can still shoot," Jakob insists, "I can help you- ow! Fuck, no I can't."

"Jakob?" Now James can't even pretend to hide the worry from his voice, because Jakob sounds hurt and he can't let Jakob get hurt. 

"It's fine, it's fine," Jakob tries to reassure James, which a part of him wants to laugh at the thought, "One of the guys must've clipped my arm or something."

"I'm heading your way," Joe says, and James relaxes ever so slightly. Because Joe's a good shot and he's a good medic, he'll be able to help Jakob easily. 

"There aren't any guys heading your way, Jakob," Lindsey adds, "So you should be in the clear- oh shit."

"What's the matter?" James asks, anxiety spiking. God, this was a terrible decision to continue with the plan. Jakob had gotten shot, Joe had to leave his position, and apparently even more shit was about to happen.

"I can't see you guys," Lindsey says in a small voice. "Like, the feed's just looping, I can't see anyone on the cams."

"What do you mean? Is something hacking us?" Even Brett's voice sounds a little more panicky than usual.

"Not… not me personally, I don't think. But like, the cameras in the warehouse. I'm gonna try and see what I can do but… this looks advanced."

"Okay, that's fine. James," Brett barks, making him stiffen instinctively. "Do you have your bomb set up?"

James nods, like a dumbass, before remembering that Brett can't see him. "Yeah, I do," he says, feeling flustered. 

"Let's just reconvene, blow this shit up, and get out of here."

"Okay," James agrees, "I've got my bomb set up. I'll meet you at the other side of the room."

James feels wobbly as he stands, as if the way things were going was actually shaking him physically. He forces himself to take a deep breath and calm down. Worse things had happened in heists before, why was he so freaked out? Jakob was going to be fine, Lindsey was working on the camera problem as fast as she could, and both he and Brett got at least one of their bombs set up. Things were going good, all things considered.

So, of course, things just had to get worse.

Outside the storeroom, the bullets kept coming. James had already learned to tune them out, and he hadn't seen anyone go through the two main doors they were protecting. He had been focused on the bomb, had been focused on getting something right, that he hadn't considered the possibility of someone sneaking into where he and Brett were. 

He didn't see the guy until he ran into him.

Although, to be fair, they had both run into each other. James had been rushing to meet up with Brett and this guy came out from his left, running to who knows where. The clown mask the other guy's wearing terrifies him more than he'd like to admit, and he makes a manly yelp as they make contact. Winded, James stumbles back, and tries to get a grip on his surroundings. 

The clown-mask guy recovers first, and promptly punches James in the face. Or tries to, anyway. The punch is clumsy, clearly the other guy's feeling the effects of running into him too, and James just barely manages to catch the punch. He retaliates by punching him in the stomach. The guy keels over, and James connects his knee to the other's chest. 

Clown-Mask Guy grunts, muffled by said clown mask, before stumbling backwards. James fiddles around for his gun, the one he had put away while setting up the bomb, but the other guy recovers quicker than he expects, and comes swinging. 

Instinctively, James leans back. "Holy shit," he mutters, feeling something cut his face. Somehow, the guy's managed to whip out a knife, and now James feels woefully unprepared. Clown-Mask shuffles forward and swings again, but James ducks away. The cut on his cheek stings obnoxiously, but he pays it no heed. 

Clown-Mask curses, and brings his left leg up to kick him. James grunts, but catches it before he can bring it down again. He pushes it down fast, and the other dude's unprepared for it, and stumbles. James takes advantage of this opportunity by giving him a solid right hook to the face. The guy's mask snaps off easily as he falls to the ground, winded.

James manages to get his gun out this time, and points it directly at the guy's head. Immediately, the guy drops his knife, and raises his hands up in surrender. "Wait, wait!"

And James stops dead in his tracks because he knows that voice. And, now that he's able to get a good look at him, he knows this guy's appearance. He knows that hair, even if it's blonde now, he knows those eyes, God, he knows everything about this person and James's breathing is coming on a little too fast because no, this guy was supposed to be dead and buried, he didn't come back, he didn't come back-

"Aleks," James breathes out, voice barely a whisper. Aleks stiffens, the shock very evident on his face, before his eyes widen even further in recognition because James didn't bother to cover his eyes or hair and now he just talked so the pieces have to fall into place. 

"James!" Brett's here now, too. Even from across the room, he can see the confusion pasted on his face, before he calmly raises up his gun and points it at Aleks. And James opens his mouth- to protest? to demand answers? he doesn't even know- but then a huge explosion to his right goes off. The shockwave's powerful enough to knock him off his feet and send him sliding. By the time he manages to regain his senses, the world in front of him is one fire. Brett's by his side, picking him up. Aleks is nowhere to be seen.

"Lets go!" Brett urges, practically pushing him forward. James lets himself be manhandled, not really trusting himself to move in a coherent manner. That… couldn't be possible. Aleks was dead, he left and hadn't come back, he promised to send a sign but he never did, he never did-

"JAMES!" Brett screams at him, right as the room to their left explodes. That's enough to pull James out of his reverie, and he instinctively flinches away from the potential wreckage. 

James tries to stutter out an apology, but he barely opens his mouth before another grenade goes off. This one's much closer, and Brett covers him as they both get blasted by the shockwave. He fall hurts more than he expects, especially with Brett on top of him, but James just grits his teeth and tries to get to his feet.

"You guys got to get out of there!" Lindsey weakly comes through the earpiece. James is very surprised that it hasn't busted with all the beatings and explosions. "That side entrance, the one where you guys came in originally, that's the safest way out! Hurry! The building's not going to last too much longer!"

She's right about that, the whole building's filled with smoke and fire now. Above them, the ceiling creaks ominously, and James takes that as a sign to move. Brett's still on the floor, having taken the brunt of the shockwave, but he's alive and that’s what matters. James lifts him up, and half carries, half lugs Brett's body towards where he remembers the exit is. 

It's hard to see anything, and his throat and eyes are killing him. Lindsey directs them to the right, her voice anxious, but James doesn't even bother with responding. He just makes sure his grip on Brett doesn't waver, never wanting to let go of his arm. They face no opposition. All the goons had been drawn to the front of the building, where… that other crew would be dealing with them. All they faced were dead bodies. 

Joe’s got the doors open and ready by the time James and Brett manage to leave the building. Jakob's there too, and he helps James get Brett in, though Brett's more conscious by that time. James piles in next to him, casting a worried look at injuries he sustained. 

"We'll talk about this later," Brett slurs out, eyes half-lidded.

James nods and shuts the door.


	2. Facing Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey forgot I didn't finish uploading this. I've got very mixed feelings about this work honestly, but I hate leaving things unfinished, so I'll probably upload the last chapter of this tomorrow and be done with it finally.

Brett's still recovering from two broken ribs and multiple bruises all over his chest when James walks in. He gives Brett a once over. The man still looks terrible, but a few days of bedrest has definitely helped him. Color's been returning to his skin, and the cuts that had been littering his arms have slowly started fading away.

"Like what you see?" Brett says teasingly from where he's leaning against the medical bed. 

James scoffs, and takes a seat across from him. "You look like shit," he says bluntly, scooting the chair closer to the edge of the bed. 

"Aw, thanks!" He replies, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "How's Jakob doing?"

James hums. "Getting better. He'll be out a few more days though."

Jakob had indeed gotten shot, though not as severe as what James had been envisioning. He had gotten shot in the lower arm, thankfully missing any major veins. The bullet had come out cleanly, but James didn't want to risk hurting him further, so he had banned Jakob any from any further excursions until Joe deemed him fit. 

And god, was he thankful for Joe. Not only had he taken care of everyone's injuries, but he had also been a great support for James. He hadn't asked about what happened in the warehouse, instead, he provided an excellent distraction from almost all his problems. 

Almost.

"So, are we going to talk about what happened with the Vespucci?" Brett asks, voice deceptively cheerful. James doesn't even bother with thinking of an excuse. This is big, and Brett has a right to know. 

Still, that doesn't make the reality any easier. James sighs, wiping his face with his hands. "I…" he begins, before stopping. The feelings pour up in him, like a volcano about to burst, but he pushes them all down in an attempt to think straight. He's got too many emotions right now, and he doesn't even know what half of them are. There's just too many things going on, and he just doesn't have time to unpack and think about all his feelings. 

Still, Brett's not going anywhere, and right now he's staring at him intently. "Who was that guy?" He asks, actually kind of gently. It's a starting point, and James would normally appreciate the gesture, but right now he's just too high-strung. 

He stares at his hands as if they hold all the answers. He kinda wishes they do. "I… I saw Aleks." He lets the words come out and lets the feelings wash over him.

Aleks had left. He had left with Sly one day and never came back. He left James with a promise that he would contact him as soon as he could. And he never did. James had assumed that meant the worst, but clearly, Aleks was alive and well. And he had apparently found a successful crew while he was at it. Fucking fantastic.

Brett blinks, recognition dawning. James told him about Aleks before, bits and pieces every now again, and Brett had knew of him before he left. "Wasn't he dead?" 

"Apparently not!" The venom's very evident in his tone, but James can't bring himself to care. Not now. Not when he so terribly misjudged someone. God, he had cared about Aleks. A lot. And it stung- the fact that Aleks hadn't returned those feelings. James wanted to hunt him down and… and what? What could he do? 

He can feel Brett's concern rolling off in waves, and it makes him bristle in annoyance. "Can you stop it?" He angrily asks, snapping up to meet him face to face. 

But Brett's gaze is even and unwavering. "Stop what? Caring about you?" His gaze hardens as he goes on, "Look James, this whole situation is fucked up."

"You don't think I know that?" James snaps, rising to his feet. "God, I spent so fucking long trying to get over his death and now he's just back as if nothing ever happened? In the middle of one of our biggest fights yet? As if I don't have enough shit to deal with!" He throws his hands up in exasperation. 

"Calm down, let's just figure this shit out," Brett says, and James just wants to strangle him. How the fuck is he supposed to calm down? He trusted Aleks so, so much, and then-

"James," Brett's annoyed voice snaps him out of his thoughts. James doesn't hear that tone of voice very often. (Well, he hears Brett's annoyed voice pretty frequently, actually, but this one's a lot more serious, and it's never usually directed at him unless he's really fucked up.) Brett sighs, seeing he's got James's attention, his bandages rising and falling with his chest. "Let's just think about this objectively for a second. In the end, we got what we wanted. The warehouse got blown up. This sets the Vespucci back a fuck ton. It cost us," he raises a finger up the second James opens his mouth. James closes it begrudgingly.

"It cost us," Brett repeats, raising his eyebrow in a sort of, 'don't do that again' sort of way, "We're kind of out of commission for a few more days, but we got what we wanted. Lindsey confirmed that crew Aleks is running with is the same one that robbed the Vespucci mid-heist, so obviously they don't like them either. So!" He claps his hands together and then winces, forgetting that fact that he's injured. "The good news is that everything's just as we planned and we don't even have to much heat on us. The bad news is that your former boyfriend's come back from the grave and is a potential threat."

James flinches. 

Brett lets out a deep breath, and rubs his eyes. "Look," he begins softly, very aware of how fragile James' emotional state is, "I get it, this whole situation fucking sucks. But we're gonna get through this, and then it'll be nothing but a bad memory."

James sighs too, long and hard. He's gotten out of situations like this before. Well, maybe not exactly like this, but unlike times before, he's got Brett by his side to help him with everything. But that doesn't mean he wants to go through this shit. He's… he's tired, surprisingly. All he wants to do is get this all over with. And the easiest way to do that is to suck it up and face the problem head on. "Yeah, you're right," he agrees, the tension melting out of his shoulders. That's not to say he isn't still upset, (because he is, he's absolutely furious) but it's just that anger's just too exhausting of an emotion. 

"Come over here," Brett gestures with his hand, and James reluctantly makes his way closer to him. He leans down slightly and Brett plants a light kiss on his cheek, a surprisingly chaste gesture. "We're going to get through this," he promises, eyes blazing. James is warmed by his conviction, and manages to nod.

It doesn't make all his problems go away, but it does ground James a little more. Still, he eventually leans away from Brett and makes his way towards the door. "I gotta clear my head more," he admits, looking apologetic at the injured man, "You gonna be okay?"

Brett scoffs. "I'll be just peachy, you go and do whatever you need to do." James nods, and starts to open the door. "Wait," Brett adds, "Just be careful, okay? Just because we aren't priority number one on the Vespucci's list doesn't mean we don't have a target on our backs."

James swallows, understanding Brett's concern. But at the same time, he just needs time to clear his head. He needs time to actually think about his feelings, because it's fairly obvious that they aren't going away. And the crew needs him to think objectively, especially with Brett temporarily out of commission. "I will," he promises, shutting the door behind him.

The outside air is cold and bitter, stinging any piece of skin James hasn't covered up with cloth. He shivers, sticking his hands in his pockets and making his way to the dimly lit streets.

The cars that pass by leave a wind that cuts through him. James sighs, watching the warm air from his breath disappear into the night sky. He's just… so angry. And frustrated. And confused. And a lot of things, really.

Aleks had probably one of the people he had been the closest to in the last crew. Professionally speaking, they worked well together. They had been a force, back in the day. They burned uncontrollably and they burned bright. If someone wanted a statement made, they were the ones to call. 

Their chaotic nature had gotten them in trouble sometimes, especially when it was just the two of them. Aleks make a suggestion, an absent-minded question, James would shoot it down, but then Aleks would say it again, and James would take a step back and look at him. The gleam in Aleks's eye was very hard to say no to. Aleks's impulsivity and his inability to stop him had almost gotten them killed, but a part of him felt that it was worth it, if he could see that uncontainable exhilaration in Aleks's eyes. 

Because James got it. He understood how Aleks worked. It wasn't just that Aleks disregarded his life, it just was that he lived for excitement. To him, routines were a safety net that he could do without. But Aleks was a dangerous fire, and if he wasn't careful, he'd find himself burning himself out. So James tried to help him by directing his flames, just a little. Because James was a fire too, not a raging inferno like Aleks was, but he could burn long and leave devastation in his wake. 

And that's what made them so good together. Because they complemented each other. James didn't try to contain Aleks and Aleks provided him with freedom in return. 

And… James had loved it. He loved spending time with Aleks. He loved seeing them paired for assignments. He liked pushing his boundaries and seeing Aleks push him right back, an unsaid conversation between the two of them. 

James stops, abruptly. A car horn honks obnoxiously loud in the distance. He's walked quite aways from the warehouse, and debates whether or not to head back. But his emotions still swirl around him, and he knows that needs to sort his feelings out. He owes that to Fake Chop. They deserve James Wilson at his best, not the one who was bogged down by emotional problems.

So he turns the corner and keeps walking.

This area's a little more unfamiliar to him. Absentmindedly, he wonders if he'll get used to it in time, like he did with his old place. But this area isn't stable, and it probably never will be. It's just another reminder that things'll never go back to the way they used to be.

But is that a bad thing? He's in a better place now, isn't he? He's in a new crew, one that he personally designed. Every person in the crew is someone he holds dear, and he's never once questioned their loyalty. Joe's been with him since forever. Jakob's proven himself over and over again. And Lindsey's got Brett's personal recommendation, which definitely doesn't come easily. 

And Brett… Brett's special. Brett was the one who took him seriously when he felt he was going crazy. Brett was the one who listened to him when he needed to vent. Brett was the helped him every single step of the way. He loves Brett. He's never doubted his feelings toward him. And he knows Brett's never doubted him either.

But he felt the same way about Aleks too, once upon a time.

James shivers again, and he can't be sure if it's because of the cold or the sudden revelation. Well actually, it's not really a revelation. He's known about these feelings for a while, but had buried them when Aleks had left.

They had fooled around a couple times, usually post-heist when they both were too drunk or high to think about the consequences later. Aleks was passionate and teasing, and James felt he could never tire of him. He never thought that his feelings would develop into something more, but looking back on it, he should've known. If Aleks was a fire, then he should've known he would've fallen for him, like a moth drawn to a flame. 

Maybe that's why it stung whenever he woke up those mornings after. Aleks never stayed the next morning and never talked about it the next day. It was like a dirty secret between the two of them. As their relationship progressed, sometimes Aleks would just show up to his door unannounced. There wouldn't be any discussion- Aleks would just give him a look and that'd be it.

Then one day Aleks left with Sly and never came back. And even though Aleks had told him beforehand, (and he was the only person Aleks told, and it had given him a little spark of hope, because maybe Aleks saw him in a special light-) James had still been shocked that he left. Because Aleks usually was never serious with these types of things. (He had often talked about the two of them starting up their own crew and being free of any constraints placed on them, and James had listened and hoped like a damn fool.)

Before he left, Aleks had promised him that he would get in contact with him as soon as he could. And James had waited and waited and waited, even tried to get in contact with him. But there was nothing, no contact from him or Sly, and James had assumed the worst. It wasn't uncommon, after all, they were wanted criminals, but it still shook him to the core. 

Of course, now it turned out that Aleks wasn't actually dead. In fact, he was very much alive, with a whole new identity. Still, even if his hair had changed and if he was running with a new crew, those eyes hadn't changed a bit. James can still see them ever-clearly in his head, wide with shock and confusion. 

James stops dead in his tracks. The road next to him is empty, aside from the empty beer bottles and used cigarettes littering the curb. And he frowns, a realization suddenly dawning on him. That despite everything, he didn't like seeing Aleks genuinely afraid of him. 

A small scrapping brings him out of his thoughts. James tenses just as he hears a click. 

"Well, what do we have here?"

James lets out a frustrated sigh as he obediently lifts his hands up. This was just meant to be a relaxing walk to clear his head, and now he's getting robbed. He didn't even bring a gun. (or his keycard, he realizes, feeling a small bit of relief.)

He turns around slowly, and is faced with two skinny looking guys. One of them perks up once he sees his face. "Hey, wait a minute!" He exclaims, "You look like someone the boss's looking for."

Though his face stays stony, inwardly, James curses. Just how fucking luck, that he'd run into the Vespucci. "Look man," he says thickly, "I'm just trying to get home. My car broke down-" 

"Don't play dumb!" The guy with the gun steps towards him, and James throws a punch to him immediately. It might not be the smartest thing to do, but it surprises both guys, and gun dude and his gun fall to the ground.

The other guys curses and throws a punch to James as well. But instinct allows him to sidestep it easily, grabbing the guy's fist and pushing it back towards him. The guy stumbles back. Unfortunately, the guy with the gun recovered lightning fast, and managed to get to his feet while James's back was turned. He hits the side of James's head solidly with his gun, causing him to fall to the ground.

It's the last thing he sees before the world goes black.

 

\--

James wakes up slowly.

The air chills him to the bone (surprise, surprise) and he shivers. The pounding in his head is dull and constant, complimented perfectly with the aching in his arms. They're zip-tied behind him, along with his ankles, securely fastened to a cold metal chair.

James squints as he peers upward, not fully adjusted to the bright light that's shining down on him. Just outside of his field of vision, he barely sees some movement. He registers it as a man, and big burly behemoth of a man as he walks closer. 

"So, you're awake, huh?" The guy cracks his knuckles before pushing his chest out, clearly trying to intimidate him. 

Trying and failing. James scoffs. This guy isn't Vespucci. In fact, looking around the warehouse, he doubts anyone in this group is apart of the Vespucci. The Vespucci were a lot classier, and a hell of a lot more professional. These guys are just amateurs, ones who got unfortunately lucky. They might have some ties with them, but James doubts that they were involved with the main things. There's no way professionals would act so… direct. Still, they know the basics. James flexes his wrists and the ties don't budge at all. And Brett hasn't found him yet, so their hacker must know a thing or two as well. 

"So I'm stuck with the shitty newbies, huh?" He mutters to himself, not bothering to keep his voice too low. 

The guy frowns, but doesn't make an attempt to harm him yet. "Look, I don't want to hurt you-" he begins, but James cuts him off immediately.

"Don't fucking start with that shit," James says, "That's the fucking most dumbest spiel. Just get to your point." 

The right hook to the face hurts. But that's to be expected, he'd be more surprised if the big burly guy couldn't throw a good punch. "I'm the one who's going to do most of the talking," he insists, and James notices that this guy's already pretty tense. Clearly, he was not expecting this to go so awry immediately. 

James keeps his breathing even as he straightens up. He knows how this'll go. His interrogator's more likely to break before James can even get started. It's just a matter of outlasting him. Brett's going to come, he knows that. Right now, he's probably using every connection he can to find him. And that's going to set business back a bit, but James isn't going to think about that right now. Right now, all he has to do is survive. 

The big guy straightens up along with him, clearly trying to regain the situation. "We know you've been making your move in this area," he says, meeting James's gaze, "And we've noticed you making some deals with Fakehaus. So, who the fuck are you guys?"

James blinks at him. "What do you mean?" He asks innocently. 

Too innocently. The guy's left hook is just as good as his right. The sharp pain in the middle of his face as well as the slow drip of blood down informs him that his nose is broken. "Don't play dumb with me. I'm getting real tired of your attitude." The big dude turns his back to him, and makes his way to a nearby table. Just barely, James can make out the figures of different instruments of torture. 

The guy lays his hands over some of them, like he was debating which to use. Another amateur mistake. A real torturer would be asking for input, or at least, trying to talk through his actions. Anything to make the captive shit his pants. All James feels right now is boredom and a broken nose. 

Eventually, he pulls out a shiny metal baseball bat. "I meant what I said earlier- I really don't want to hurt you," he insists. James lets him continue his monologue. Least it provided some sort of entertainment. 

"My boss wants info. You want to get out of here alive. I can make it so both parties get what they want. I'm willing-"

"Okay, dude," James interjects, unable to stand it, "You're not scaring me. Like, at all. This is probably the most boring torture I've ever been apart of. Can't you like, just get to your point already?"

James can practically see the guy's berserk button go off. His mouth goes into a thin line and his fingers clench around the bat. That's really the only indication he gives before roughly swings the bat directly into his chest. James barely has time to react to it before the next swing comes down his right. It happens so quickly that he doesn't really know how many swings the guy does. 

By the time he's done, James is heaving. His lungs burn, and yep, that's definitely some broken ribs he's feeling. Wow, he definitely was not expecting the dude to lose control right away, jesus. 

Speaking of, the guy's breathing heavily too. He looks like he had spent a couple of rounds in a boxing ring rather than beating up a defenseless man. Straightening up, he goes back to the table and throws the bat to the side, much to James's relief. But he picks up a knife instead, and turns around with a creepy grin. 

"You know, I'm doing you a favor," he says as he swaggers back to him, "The Vespucci are offering big money for you and your crew. I could just turn you into them and that'd be it! But I'm a merciful man."

He gets in close to James, his breath unfortunately close to his nose. Even broken, it still manages to pick up the stench of the other guy's breath. "You answer all my questions, and I'll give you a merciful death. Or…" he grabs James's hair, painfully, "I turn you into the Vespucci, who can't promise that."

James smirks. "The Vespucci wouldn't fucking bore me to death either."

Burly guy slashes at his left cheek, leaving a thin red line. James doesn't even flinch. "Getting real tired of your attitude," Burly Guy growls, shaking the blood off the knife, "Maybe I should cut your tongue out."

"Then I couldn't fucking tell you anything, you fucking idiot," James snaps, annoyed.

It's very clear that his interrogator's annoyed too, as he cuts James's left arm. James can't help but scream out in pain, because that one genuinely hurts. It's much deeper than the cut on his cheek, and he can see the blood well up immediately. 

Burly guy looks very satisfied with himself, and James wishes he wasn't tied down so that he pummel him. He wants to come up with a funny retort, but he's feeling tired now. He hadn't realized it, but he had been running on adrenaline. Now that it was fading away, he felt more sluggish and weary.

He hopes that Brett comes soon. 

Burly Guy cracks his neck and smiles down at him. "Let's go through this again. We know you're after the Vespucci. We know you've been making some big plays. So, just who are you guys?"

"Fuck off," James says eloquently, struggling to keep his eyes open. A part of him wants to give in to unconsciousness, but another, more realistic part of him urges him to stay awake. Not just to mouth off at that guy some more, but to guarantee survival. They don't necessarily need to keep James alive, especially they think he'll cause more trouble than he's worth. And if they suspect rescue's coming, then they could just use him as bait and capture someone else in the crew. 

Before James can finish his train of thought, Burly Guy steps forward again. "That's not the answer I'm looking for," he says, grinning sadistically, "Just give me the info I need, and you can go painlessly."

James spits a clump of blood at him.

It lands on Burly Guy's white shirt. He makes a face as he sighs. "You never learn, do you?" He raises up his knife to stab, but he doesn't get to lower it. The bullet makes sure of that.

The gun goes off quietly, no doubt because of a suppressor, embedding a bullet straight into Burly Guy's chest. Burly Guy looks down, his eyes comically wide, just in time to see the second bullet pierce his chest as well. His knees cave in and he falls to the floor with a small thump, shock still engraved on his face. Behind him, a man in black rises to his feet, before racing toward him.

"Oh fuck, James," he curses, voice higher pitched than what James was expecting. He chalks it up to his lack of coherent thought. All that matters is that Brett's here, he came for him and not a second too late.

"Took you long enough," he mutters out as best he can, as Brett races over to untie him. He grunts painfully as the bonds around his arms and ankles disappear, slumping forwards.

"Oh shit," he hears Brett curse, though it's hard to focus on that. The world's swirling above him, and he feels safe in Brett's tattooed arms. 

…except, when did Brett get tattoos? Or blonde hair for that matter?

"Wait-" James slurs, but the world's getting dimmer now, and he's too tired to put any coherent thoughts together. The last thing he sees are Aleks's brown eyes staring at him fearfully.


	3. Freefalling to the End

James wakes up alone.

Or, at least he thinks he's alone. He can't really see at first; the world's a mess of blurry colors, almost overwhelming. He blinks a few times, trying to focus. The first thing he realizes is that the room is an off white color, a stark difference from the dark warehouse he used to be in.

Oh, the warehouse. Oh yeah, he had gotten tortured. Man, he must be really high off pain meds, because he can't really feel anything except a dull pain kinda everywhere. But of course, as soon as he thinks that, the pain starts blossoming, especially in his ribs and arms. Before he can stop it, he lets out a groan of pain, which only causes him to hurt more.

Beside him, he sees movement. Startled, James quickly glances to his left. There's a man in a metal chair, slumped lazily against it. As he squints, he realizes that's the guy's sleeping, and pretty soundly at that. And judging by the blonde hair and plethora of colorful tattoos on his arms, he can only assume it's Aleks. James doesn't really know if he wants to wake him. Sure, he might've saved his life, but this could easily be a "out of the frying pan, into the fire," situation. He had absolutely no idea where he was, and he was pretty much at the mercy of Aleks. He was definitely too weak to go anywhere, and where would he go anyway? The best course of action would be to wait for Brett to come save him, however unappealing that sounded.

Turning back to stare at the ceiling, he frowns. Why did Aleks save him? Aleks might've been the type of person who did things on a whim, but he doubted the rest of his crew would follow him blindly. So he must've convinced everyone that there could be something they could gain out of this. And the only thing that could come to mind was for him to be used as a bargaining chip.

James sighs, ignoring the stinging pain that comes from his chest because of it. An idea prickles into his head. There was no way he could leave in his current condition. But maybe he could prepare for a possible escape.

He glances around the room. It's actually pretty barren, aside from the IV next to him and a couple of chairs with pillows by Aleks. The only source of light comes from the light bulbs above him; there aren't any windows. There looks to be only one door, and that's adjacent to Aleks, but it didn't appear to have any sort of fancy locking system. Maybe all he needed was a key.

James glances at Aleks. He would definitely have a key. There's no way he wouldn't. And now would be the best time to get it, while he was asleep and unprepared.

He flexes his arms, testing his strength. And immediately winces. Oh yeah, he got stabbed there. But he's still pretty confident that he can at least sit up, so shakily, he tries to prop himself up.

Keyword: tries.

He gets up about halfway before he starts rapidly losing strength in his arm. The pain starts to really become unbearable as well and, with a grunt, James lets himself fall back into the bed.

"Oh shit, you're awake!" Aleks practically jumps out of his chair, eyes wide and unfocused. He stumbles over to where James is half-laying, half-propped up, but before he can touch him, James scoots away, inadvertently loosing his balance. He lets out a curse as his back meets the bed, causing pain to blossom in his chest again.

Aleks frowns, and goes to move towards him again. James notes that he's approaching more warily this time. "I'm just trying to help you sit up, asshole."

"I can do it myself," James snaps, glaring at him. Aleks holds his hands up in surrender, and takes a step away. Inhaling sharply, James pushes himself upwards, arms shaking. It hurts, it hurts a fuckton, but he just bites the inside of his cheek instead of crying out. Eventually, he manages to lean against the wall behind him. Aleks grabs a pillow and places it behind his back, ignoring James protests.

"Dude, chill! I'm literally just trying to help you!" Aleks insists, bending down to grab another pillow from a nearby chair.

"I don't want your fucking help!" James shouts back, ripping the pillow from Aleks's hands and throwing it back at him. The throw itself is sloppy and Aleks ducks and avoid it easily. "Just fuck off!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, stop being an asshole!" Aleks bends down again to pick up the fallen pillow, wincing as he does so. James notices and frowns. Well that was new. But Aleks tosses him the pillow and instinctively, James catches it. Seeing that he now has a perfectly good pillow in his hands and what a shame it would be to just waste it, he places it behind his back.

"I don't believe that for a second," James replied, "Why the fuck am I here then?"

"Because I needed to talk to you!" Aleks voice cracks, and James barks out a laugh.

"So you decide the best time to do that is mid-torture session?" He asks, incredulously.

Aleks's eyebrows furrow together in anger. "I could've just fucking left you there, you know!"

"Why didn't you?" James snaps back, "That seems to be what you're good at!"

Aleks straightens as if he'd been shocked, and James can't find it in himself to feel bad. It's the truth, after all. There's absolutely no way Aleks just saved him out of the kindness off his heart, especially not after he left without a single word.

Aleks's eyes are pleading as speaks. "Please," he begs, "Just let me explain."

But James's chest is heaving, and he shakes his head before Aleks can even finish talking. "No," he says, voice smooth, "You had months to explain. You could've said something. God, I thought-" he breaks off, turning away from Aleks. There are tears prickling up in his eyes, but James blinks them away angrily. He's not fucking crying here, in front of Aleks.

"Please," there's raw desperation in Aleks's voice as he repeats himself. "Please, just hear me out."

James inhales deeply and shuts his eyes. He doesn't want to listen, he doesn't want to hear all the excuses Aleks has probably spent months rehearsing. But…

"Why?" The question spills out before James can stop it. The stares at Aleks, who's now slumped in his chair. He looks… tired. But James isn't in the mood to care, he's been thinking about these questions for months, and god damnit, he's going to get some answers. "Why did you just leave?" Despite his many emotions swirling in head, his voice comes out clearly.

"Did you want me to stay?" Aleks meets his gaze, sitting up straighter. James frowns. He knows Aleks. Aleks is arrogant. Aleks is always wanting control. Aleks is floating from one idea to the other, constantly in motion. And as he's staring at him, he realizes he actually doesn't know Aleks at all. Because the old Aleks would've broken his gaze by now. He wouldn't keep his gaze, staring evenly back at him.

And it's because of that James allows himself to answer truthfully. "Yes," he whispers, all his anger coming out in that one word.

It's only then that Aleks looks away. James keeps staring at him for a beat longer, before sitting back with a sigh. He opens his mouth before closing it again, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry," he says, and something snaps inside James.

"No, you don't get to fucking say that," he retorts angrily. "You and Sly left without a fucking word! And you promised you'd get in touch! You promised-" he chokes on the word, and blames it on his injuries. It can't be because of anything else.

"I left because Sly asked me to!" Aleks yells back, rising to his feet. "God… he got in some serious shit with the Vespucci, his uncle was in it or some shit I dunno, and they were looking for him. They were looking for his family, James," he says it so seriously, and despite his intentions not to, he can't help but understand. If his someone was hunting his mom, he'd drop everything to help her.

But he's still selfish, and hardens his gaze. "You could've told me! I would've helped! You didn't have to do all this shit on your own!"

"I couldn't be sure! And anyway," he lowers his voice again, "We needed to move fast. Sly's family was halfway across the country. The more people we told, the slower we'd move."

James barks out a laugh. "And you had just enough time to fuck me before you left." Aleks flinches, but James continued, anger palpable in each word. "You fucking promised me you'd say something, and you didn't. I fucking trusted you, Aleksandr."

"I know! I know you did!" Aleks runs a hand through his hair, "I didn't mean to break that promise. I was gonna call you once everything blew over. I didn't want anyone in the crew to know what was happening."

James opens his mouth to make a counterpoint, but then closes it. Honestly… that's a good point, especially considering the time he and Sly left. Tension amongst the whole crew had been very high, and only got higher with Aleks and Sly's sudden disappearance. If word had gotten out they were leaving, there would probably have been pretty severe consequences.

Aleks takes a breath before continuing, "We got to Sly's family as soon as we could. And we got to them before the Vespucci did. But…" he pauses and winces, as if the memory harms him, "The safest thing to do was to make them all disappear. So we had to fake their deaths. Including Sly's."

James frowns. It's a logical step, but that would involve a lot of planning in getting new identities. And Sly would never be able to get back into the criminal lifestyle while the Vespucci were still a thing. But he sensed there was more to the story, so he gestured for Aleks to continue.

"Sly, uh, he had a contact," Aleks says after a beat, not making eye contact with James, "Promised to get new identities and shit for the whole family. All we had to do was run a few errands."

"But…?" James prompted, seeing Aleks trail off.

Aleks blinks, as if remembering where he was. Letting out a breath and regaining a bit of his composure, he continues, somberly, "It was a trap. Apparently he had connections with the Vespucci. We walked into the warehouse he told us to be at and they brought the whole fucking building down."

Abruptly, he stands up, startling James. He frowns, wondering what exactly Aleks is playing at. But without saying a word, Aleks swiftly takes off his shirt. James is about to protest loudly, but the words die in his throat as soon as Aleks turns around.

Scars. There's so many of them all over Aleks's back and sides. They vary in length and size, but they all look fairly new. The smaller ones are whiter, starting to show some signs of fading away, but for the most part, they all look red and loud, especially against his pale skin. Aleks shivers- from the cold or James eyes on him? he can't tell- and put his shirt back on quietly.

When he turns around, his eyes are glazed a bit. Again, he doesn't look James in the eye. "I woke up in the hospital a couple days later, but it took me months to recover. Some anonymous person paid for my bill in full," he says, and James senses there's a story there, but there's a more pressing question on his mind.

"What happened to Sly?" James asks, worried about the answer he'll receive. He liked Sly- the man's energy was infectious and definitely needed in their line of work.

"He's alive," Aleks says slowly, frowning as if in deep thought, "But I've got no idea where he is. A relative of his visited me in the hospital and told me he and his family were in a safe place, and that the Vespucci thinks we're both dead. But I haven't seen him since."

James nods, thinking on it all. That… certainly wasn't what he was expecting. If Aleks hadn't shown him the scars, he might not have believed him, honestly. Well, that wasn't true. Even if Aleks looked and acted differently, there were still parts of him James understood. And he understood that the pain lingering in his eyes was real. He was hurting, both from the bomb and the loss of Sly.

"I'm sorry," Aleks's voice startles him, and he glances over he is. He's sitting now, hunched forwards with his hands clasped. "When… when I woke up, I had no idea what happened to Sly. I didn't know for days. So… I'm sorry. For, like, putting you through the same thing, you know?"

He wipes his mouth with his hand, a small tic James remembers seeing whenever Aleks's is nervous. Abruptly, he's transported back to a few months prior, when the both of them had been in James's dinky apartment. It had been the morning after, and Aleks had woken up before him, surprisingly. He had woken up as soon as Aleks left, too used to the warmth he had provided. The water was running, and James let the sound lull him into a state of semiconscious.

He remembers that he wakes up fully once the water stops Aleks renters the room, hair still damp from his shower. God, he remembers how panicky and nervous he was. How he had held James close the night before. Aleks hadn't ever been tender, but that last night had been the softest he's ever been. He remembers how genuinely sad he had been when he had left.

James had gotten feelings for Aleks somehow, sometime between the late night sex and early morning heist set-ups. And he was content to go to the grave with those feelings, if only to avoid awkwardness. But… seeing Aleks leave so abruptly had made him wonder if he should confess, his in case he never saw him again.

"I was gonna call you." Aleks's voice pulls him out of his thoughts. "But I lost my phone and all my contacts in the explosion. As soon as I got out I tried to track you down. Then I saw our the crew disbanded." He looks at him and frowns. "What happened?"

James sighs, leaning back against the pillows. "Things just went to shit after you and Sly left. Nobody fucking trusted each other. People would start leaving the second they saw a better deal."

"I'm sorry," Aleks apologizes again, but James waves it off.

"It's not your fault. It would've happened either way. I got Brett to help me start up our own little crew, and took Joe with me before I left."

"So that's what Fake Chop is? It's you and Brett?" Aleks asks, curiosity dripping from his voice.

James is a bit surprised that Aleks knows of his crew. They weren't terribly large, and hadn't made too many big statements, but then he suddenly remembers that Aleks is apart of a crew here. "Yeah," he confirms, before quickly switching topics, "But what about you? How'd you get into… whatever this crew is?"

"I founded this," Aleks explains, "Found a bunch of people that wanted the Vespucci gone as much as I did. And Aron," he adds, and James cracks a small smile. He's glad Aron's doing alright. He hadn't heard from him since he left the crew. Though, to be fair, he hadn't heard from anyone since he left.

There's a bit of a commotion outside, and the smile fades from James's face. Aleks rises up, and spares a glance at James before opening the door. "Uhh, wait here," he says, before leaving.

James scoffs. "Not like I could fucking go anywhere!" He mutters to the empty room. But, strangely, he's not mad. He thought he would be, considering everything that's happened, but if anything, he's feeling confused. He still got no idea what the fuck is going on, but, for some stupid reason, he finds himself trusting Aleks. Even if the scars were fake, and the story was all fabricated, the pain in Aleks's eyes was real.

Maybe that's why he feels oddly calm right now. He's alone in a unfamiliar room, pretty much defenseless and at the mercy of Aleks, but he's not afraid. Maybe it's because he knows that Aleks won't hurt him. Or maybe it's just the painkillers talking.

The commotion outside the door grows louder, and James strains to hear what's being said. No gunshots, which is always good, but there's a whole lot of yelling. He doesn't recognize one of the voices, but he hears Aleks shouting, trying to calm another voice down. And that other voice is… Brett?

Holy shit, he fucking forgot all about Brett. If he wasn't already in pain, he would've hit himself. How the fuck did he forget that his boyfriend would be literally burning down the whole city trying to find him?

The door slams open, and suddenly he's faced with a very angry and worried looking Brett. His gaze is frantic before it settles on James, and he rushes to him. Brett gives him a once over before cupping his face and placing a kiss to his forehead. James can't help but wince at the roughness of it, but the feeling of relief pushes away any annoyance he would normally have. It just feels good to know that Brett's here with him again, and that he hadn't done anything too drastic.

His gaze is torn away from Brett once he sees Aleks enter the room again. Brett notices too, and straightens up. Aleks matches the glare Brett's giving him as he speaks, tersely, "I told you I wasn't going to hurt him."

"Yeah? Don't know about you, but he doesn't really look the epitome of perfect fucking health," Brett's voice is low, dangerous. His back is to him, so he can't really see his face, but James knows just by his body language that Brett's taut, a spring ready to be released.

But Aleks isn't backing down. "Oh, I'm sorry. Next time I'll just leave him in that torture chamber."

"There won't be a next time," Brett growls.

"Alright, hold up," James interrupts. "What the fuck is going on?"

They both stare at him. James feels kind of like an idiot. But he honestly isn't following. He's really surprised the two of them haven't already shot each other- neither one of them are really the type to ask questions.

Brett breaks the silence. "I was out looking for you when I get a text from this guy," he nods in Aleks's direction, "Saying that he had saved you from some random gang-"

"The Reds," Aleks interrupts, "They're a gang trying to get on the Vespucci's good side."

"The Reds," Brett corrects himself mockingly, rolling his eyes, "Saying he miraculously saved you from the clutches of the evil Reds, and that you'd be here."

"Okay, I'm here! What the fuck's your point?" James asks, exasperated. He's too fucking tired for this shit.

"I wanted you both here for a deal," Aleks says, and instantly, James's eyes narrow. He should've known- that in the end, he'd just be used as a bargaining chip. He clenches his fists. Man, and he had just started trusting Aleks too.

"Not like that," Aleks quickly says, catching James's eyes.

"Then what do you mean, exactly?" Brett sounds real annoyed. James notices that he's not carrying any visible guns on him. Must've been a stipulation Aleks had insisted on. Though, that definitely didn't mean Brett would be useless in a fight. On the contrary, Brett was hands-down the best hand-to-hand fighter he'd ever seen.

Aleks looks at them both evenly. "I'm gonna let James go, no matter what."

Brett scoffs, but Aleks continues, "I just wanted both of you here to hear this. I want both of our crews to be allies."

For a second, nobody speaks. Brett looks down at James, eyes full of disbelief. But James can't explain anything either. He was honestly expecting something… more.

Aleks senses their confusion, and begins to explain himself more. "Look, just think about it- we both want the Vespucci dead, right? But there's a lot of ground that we've got to cover, something neither of us have the manpower for."

"We've got plenty of guys," Brett says confidently.

But Aleks doesn't fall for his bluff. "No, you don't. Or else you'd use them the first time you attacked the Vespucci. You would've been screwed if my crew hadn't distracted them."

"Hang on, how did you know we'd be attacking the Vespucci?" James interrupts, furrowing his brow.

"I didn't, at first," Aleks admits, "But everyone takes notices when a small group starts taking on a bigger one. And I was already keeping tabs on the Vespucci. When I saw you start provoking them, I figured your next course of action would be attacking one of their bases."

"And it was just a lucky guess that we'd attack the warehouse we did, huh?" Brett doesn't look convinced, and James isn't really either.

"I mean, no offense, but you guys aren't the hardest people to track," Aleks says, which is fair- Lindsey's great, but she couldn't work a computer as well as she could haggle with prices for ammo. "And anyways, like I was saying, we want the Vespucci dead. And we could get a lot more down if we teamed up and took them down."

Brett exhales slowly, and crosses his arms. "You know, I'd be a lot more receptive to this idea, if it wasn't for the fact you're using James as a bargaining chip."

"I'm really not!" Aleks insists. "James is going to be let go, whatever your decision is. You have my word!" He adds on quickly, seeing Brett opening his mouth. Aleks looks… almost desperate to be believed in, judging by the wide eyes and inability to know what to do with his hands. "It's just… we were just looking into the Reds anyway… and fuck, I couldn't just leave you there," he says, looking at James directly.

James opens his mouth- to say what? to say he doesn't believe him?- before closing it. Because Aleks sounds genuine. Because his mannerisms are exactly the same as they had been months ago, when he had left. And despite everything that's come between them, James still fucking trusts him.

"Can Brett and I have a moment alone?" He asks, ignoring how sharply Brett turns to face him. Aleks nods, glancing once more between the two of them before leaving.

James expects a large barrage of questions to come out the moment Brett fully faces him. But, to his surprise, he just asks, "Are you doing okay?"

James blinks. "As fucking good as I can be, considering the situation. What about you?"

"Fine," Brett responds, and James glances at his chest. He can't see any of his bandages underneath his jacket, but he knows they're there. He feels a stab of pain, for cutting Brett's recovery time short.

He glances away, sighing. "I don't know what to do," he admits.

"Do you think he'll let you go?" Brett asks.

James doesn't even miss a beat. "Yes," he says, surprising himself with his certainty. For some stupid, stupid reason… he trusts Aleks. He trusts those scars are true, he trusts his story is legit, he trusts that the pain he saw in his eyes is real.

Brett looks at him for half a beat more. Then, he nods slowly. "Okay," he says simply. There's a lot going on behind that one word, stuff that James can't quite understand. But before he can ask him about it, Brett continues, "So, what are we going to do? Are we going to team up with him or not?"

James sighs. Because while he does trusts that Aleks will keep to his word, he doesn't know if he trusts him completely. And even if his story is a hundred percent true, that doesn't mean that Aleks is the same person that James had accidentally fallen in love with all those months ago. He's changed- honestly, both of them have. Aleks has a new crew now, and James does too. And Fake Chop means the world to him. It's the reason he's hesitating, honestly.

Because objectively, allying themselves with Aleks is the smart thing to do. They need more people on their side, more people willing to fight with them instead of being indifferent, or worse, actively against them. It would provide both crews with stability and manpower. And god, did they need that.

But it was one thing for James to trust Aleks, and it was a completely different thing to trust him with the crew. Fake Chop was everything to him. For once in his life, he felt completely in control. He had the freedom to actually plan heists, to play around with ideas, to be in charge. And he liked everyone in the crew. These were people he and Brett handpicked out, amazing at what they did. And James liked them all personally, too. He'd never forgive himself if he let them die needlessly.

He looks over to Brett. James knows he doesn't trust Aleks, and then remembers that doesn't have any reason to. He didn't hear Aleks's story. But maybe that's a good thing. It would be good to hear the opinion of someone who was skeptical. "What do you think I should do?"

For a while, Brett doesn't respond. James feels oddly nervous, waiting for his response. He trusts Brett more than anyone, and respects his viewpoints. So far, none of his plans had ever steered him wrong.

Eventually, he sighs. "Well, you know him better than I do, so I'll let you make the call."

Well, that wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. James blinks in surprise as he replays Brett's answer in his head, trying to make sense of it. "What?" He says eloquently, furrowing his brow.

"Look, last time I saw you, you looked ready to kill Aleks the next time you saw him. And now you're seriously considering teaming up with him. So I know something about him made you change your opinion. So if that's enough for you, then go for it." Brett explains.

"And what about you?" James asks.

"I'm with you every step of the way," Brett replies. James doesn't say anything immediately, just fixates himself of Brett's face. His gaze is even, eyes determined, showing no signs of wavering. Once again, James can't help but inwardly sigh in relief. He knows Brett will always be by his side, he's proven it time and time again. But it's always nice to hear that out loud, to be reassured that his feelings are mutual. It's easier to think with the warmth of his gaze grounding him.

James hums and makes a decision.

\----

_Seven months later_

"We did it," Aleks breathes next to him, eyes wide. In front of them, the last of the Vespucci's warehouse is in flames, the bright colors lighting up the night sky. James can feel the heat from where he's standing, and he's a solid fifty feet away from the blaze. Or maybe that's less to do with the fire and more to do with the fact that Aleks is pressed into his side.

"There's still gonna be stragglers, you know," he can't help but say, because it's true. A powerful group like the Vespucci wouldn't go quietly into the night.

"Dude, fucking… don't ruin my mood, dude," Aleks snaps back, annoyed. Despite that, he buries himself closer into James, eyes light. "We did it, that's what matters."

James hums, eyes watering due to the smoke. He can't help but think about how far they've come. Six months ago he wouldn't have ever dreamed about getting this close to Aleks again, but now, it feels natural. Somehow, he slotted himself perfectly back into his life again. And he doesn't seem to mind.

"You assholes gonna stand there all night?"

Aleks's head shoots up from its place on James's shoulder, and even James can't help but whirl around at the sound of the voice. But it's only Brett, armed with some glass beer bottles.

Aleks relaxes immediately. "We're just enjoying the moment, man," he insists, outstretching hand for a beer. Brett tosses him one, and Aleks fumbles a bit, but manages to grab hold of it. Brett scoffs, opting to hand James's normally.

"Yeah? You did very little to actually help blow up the warehouse," Brett says, popping open his beverage.

"What do you mean dude, someone had to plan this all out! Without my creative genius, none of this would've happened!" Aleks's tone sounds agitated, but he's smiling.

Brett rolls his eyes. "Yeah, if you're such a genius, I don't think you'd want to stick around here for much longer. The police'll be coming soon."

"They've always got to ruin everything. We were having a moment," Aleks gripes again, taking a swig of his beer.

"You're all about these moments, huh?" James quips, catching Aleks repeat himself.

"Well, yeah," he mutters, burying himself back into James's shoulder. "That's what it's all about, isn't it?"

James hums, as Brett comes and wraps his arms around the both of them. There's a sound of sirens in the distance, the smell of smoke behind him, and the sight of two people he loved most next to him…Yeah, he wouldn't change this for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, we're done with this behemoth. Thanks to everyone who stuck with this. Probably won't ever write for Cow Chop again, but be on the lookout for more Nopixel stuff in the future, if that's your jam.


End file.
